


For Glad and Golden Hours

by littlereyofsunlight



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Eve, F/M, Original Character(s), Steggy Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlereyofsunlight/pseuds/littlereyofsunlight
Summary: Our favorite couple have just returned home on December 24th from a mission that ran long, and are scrambling to be ready for the holiday.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steggyisimmortal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steggyisimmortal/gifts).



> Written for steggyisimmortal for the 2016 Steggy Secret Santa exchange.
> 
> In this fic, we’re a little less than two years out of the war. Peggy, Steve and Bucky have been working together on a special forces team affiliated with the SSR. Peggy and Steve are also married. In short, it’s a happy AU where almost everyone survived the war (sorry, Michael Carter). 
> 
> Originally the idea was to write a bit of 1940s holiday fluff, but this is what happened when I sat down to write, instead! (Spoiler: one or two feels happened.)

“All right. The plan is this: Peggy, you take the third floor. Buck, you’ve got the basement. I’ll handle the main floor, it’s the most crowded. We grab what we came for and then meet back here at the register.” Steve scrubbed a hand over the scruff of his unkempt beard and closed his eyes for just a moment before snapping his gaze back down to their list. “Here are your targets, broken down by location. Work the perimeter when possible and avoid engaging with civilians at all costs. We still have to make it to Gino’s tree stand in the next hour.”

Barnes smirked and sketched a lazy salute and Peggy just rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Steve, I don’t think you need to tell me how to shop,” she accepted her copy of the list and looked it over, perfect eyebrows pinched together. “What is all this?”

“Second, third and in some cases, fourth options.” At her blank look, he sighed, “It’s so late, they might not have exactly what we’re looking for. I didn’t want to lose time scrambling for something else.”

“When exactly did you have time to work this out?” She took in the way her husband’s plush mouth pinched at the corners, the tense set of his shoulders.

“I didn’t sleep on the plane home.” 

After a thirty-six hour trek to their rendezvous point? “Darling, maybe we shouldn’t attempt this. It’s been a hellish fortnight, we’re home now, perhaps it’s best if we just go back to Stark’s and let the Jarvises take care of everything, hm?” At her side, Peggy could see Bucky begin to frantically shake his head.

Steve, though clearly exhausted, puffed up, “We are not having Mikey’s first Christmas at Howard Stark’s ridiculous townhouse, Peggy. I’m giving my son the holiday that we planned. Now. Let’s. Move. Out.” He stalked off in the direction of the decorations. 

Bucky slung his arm around her shoulders, a move that would have irritated her to no end, before. Now she sagged into his side, “He’s just so tired. We’re all tired. After everything, wouldn’t it be easier to take this year off?”

“Not arguing with you, Pegs,” he pressed a quick kiss to her temple, “but there’s no way Steve could let this go. You could drop him into the Arctic and he’d still find a way to claw home in time for Mikey’s first Christmas.”

“It’s still his first Christmas no matter how we celebrate,” she didn’t quite manage to keep the sulk out of her voice, “Howard invited us all to stay, and Michael’s been with the Jarvises these past few weeks anyways. I’d be so happy to have a hot meal and a bath and know the rest was taken care of.”

“Don’t get me thinkin’ about a meal outta Ana Jarvis’s kitchen right now,” Bucky chuckled. He turned to face her, “Listen, we’re tired and stinky and cranky as hell, but Steve wants to give your boy a Christmas like he never had. I know you know we were poor growing up, Peggy, but maybe you don’t really understand. With Steve sick all the time, there was never any extra, somehow his Ma still made sure there was something in his stocking. Steve felt bad he couldn’t always return the favor.” Peggy bit her lip. She’d never wanted for anything, at Christmas or any other time, not really. “Now he’s got plenty, and he’s got you and Mikey, and, well, he’s maybe going a little nuts. But only because he wants to take care of you both. After the way this last mission went, I think you oughta let him.”

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, and she couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or emotion. The last year had taken a toll on her and Steve both. With the newborn and the way everything was falling apart in post-war Europe, it seemed they’d hardly stopped to catch their breath since before last Christmas. Still, they’d tackled everything up to this point as a team, and Peggy couldn’t let this be any different. She took a deep breath, stood up straight and squared her shoulders, “Right. Steve wants a perfect first Christmas for Michael, I’ll make sure he has one.”

“That’s my girl,” Bucky gave her arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Hand over your list, Sargeant, I need to send you out for a few other things, if you don’t mind. Oh, sir,” She smiled coquettishly at a passing salesman, “I’m afraid I’m in a terrible rush and I need your help finding some things on my list. Could you lend a hand?”

“Of course, madam,” the salesman replied.

“Excellent,” Peggy thought for a moment, tapping her finger on her chin and beckoned both men closer. Bucky’s eyes twinkled as they all bent their heads together.

 

***

When she spotted Steve again, he had no less than twelve boxes of ornaments piled high, plus a few tinsel garlands looped over his arms. The whole effect would have been rather festive, if he hadn’t that scowl on his face. Still, Peggy figured she could do something about that.

“Over here, darling!” The black look didn’t quite lift when he saw her, but she could see a bit of the tension leave his stance.

“Where’s Bucky?” He scanned her and the surrounding area, taking in the lack of packages. His shoulders quickly resumed their attempt to touch his ears. “Where’s everything I asked you to get? Peggy, I’m serious, we have to—” 

“Steve, please hand those off to Maurice. He’s nearly ready to send out our order. What you have is the last of it.” 

A man appeared at Steve’s elbow, arms outstretched. 

Peggy took pity at his obvious confusion. “Bucky stepped out to run some errands for me. Your list was so exact, Maurice and I had no trouble filling all of your requests. And now we’re not laden down with packages, we can carry the tree home on our own.”

Relieved of his burden, Steve set his hands on his narrow hips and cocked his head, “So you’re on board with this now? Christmas at home? No Stark?” A smile played at the corners of his mouth and Peggy felt a rush of warmth at his teasing.

Peggy nodded, “Christmas at home. No Stark until Boxing Day.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Day after.”

She allowed herself a quick smile, then turned solemn as she crossed her heart, “December twenty-seventh and no earlier. Now, time to go! Gino awaits.”

 

***

“I’m sorry I snapped back there,” Steve apologized as they hustled through midtown, “I know it would be easier to stay with Howard and let Jarvis take care of things, I do.” He exhaled, the chill in the air clouding his breath before them. 

“It’s all right, Steve. We can do it up this year,” Peggy rubbed her hand briskly along his arm, more to warm herself than him. “I’m glad we’ll have the memory of Michael’s first Christmas in our own home.” They dodged a clump of tourists crowded around a band of carol singers, the strains of a slightly off-tune It Came Upon the Midnight Clear floating over their heads. 

“I thought, after the war, when we got married, that everything would settle down along with us.” Steve tugged her a little closer, his voice low, “That hasn’t quite worked out, though. World gets more complicated, and we keep putting ourselves right in the thick of it. We nearly missed Christmas with our son, and all I can think is: what if next time we don’t make it back?”

Peggy pressed her lips into a thin line. The thought haunted her days, as well.

He smiled down at her, “Still, I’ve been a jerk. I don’t know what keeps you hanging around me.”

“Oh, it’s probably something to do with your government salary,” she sniffed. The carolers switched to O Holy Night, a solo soprano warbling over the crowd.

“Not my winning personality, huh?”

“No, that’s pretty low on the list, well under how's very nice you are to look at.” He chuckled as she burrowed closer, “You’re lucky you’re so pretty, darling, I wouldn’t go traipsing around in the freezing cold looking for a tree on Christmas Eve with just any man.”

Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulder, “I’m a lucky guy, that’s true.” They turned a corner and escaped the carolers at last.

 

***

“Sold my last one about twenty minutes ago, pal,” Gino shook his head and chomped on his cigar. “I gots some wreaths still, if ya wanna see those.”

“You’re sure there’s not just one tiny tree left in the back? Perhaps something you forgot about?” Peggy tried for another coquettish smile, but truth be told, she was running on fumes and the best she could do was mildly puzzled.

“It’s our son’s first Christmas, you see, and we’d be so-”

“Sorry, folks, no trees left here.” As Steve and Peggy sagged against each other, the tree seller softened a bit. “You might try down in Chinatown, there are a coupla guys with tree stands along Mott Street.”

Steve nodded, “Right where Chinatown meets Little Italy?”

“That’s the spot. Used to be a big market but more and more Italians” Gino pronounced it eye-tal-yans, “are leaving for Jersey, so might be you get lucky down there.” He shrugged and popped his cigar back into his mouth.

“Thank you so much,” Peggy called over her shoulder as Steve set off at a determined pace, dragging her behind him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas.” Gino grumbled as he settled back onto his stool.

 

***

After several blocks, she convinced him to hail a cab downtown. In the start and stop traffic, she’d managed to finally retouch her signature red lipstick, despite Steve’s ribbing. She knew how much he loved it on her, and it made her feel ready to face their task again, besides. 

The first two sellers they encountered had nought but wreaths and pine boughs. Steve was looking at some of the bigger branches, muttering to himself about the load bearing capacity. Peggy was pretty sure he was nearing delirium at this point. If she rang up Ana, a tree plus all the trimmings would be delivered to their apartment in under an hour, but she knew better than to suggest it to Steve. Even if he was desperate to the point of Frankensteining several branches into a sad approximation of a tree.

“You’re looking for a tree?” A voice at her elbow startled Peggy out of her thoughts. She looked down to find a small girl staring up at her, head cocked to one side.

“Er, yes, we are.”

The girl nodded, “Good. Come with me.” She darted off into the crowd.

“Steve!” Peggy turned to him and tugged at his arm. He shrugged her off, still deep in thought. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she muttered, and turned back to follow the child.

She was out of breath by the time they’d wound their way across several crowded blocks, through an alley, up and down some stairs and finally through the back entrance of a restaurant. Peggy ignored how her stomach growled at the smell of steaming dumplings. “Where on earth are you taking me?”

“Mr. Li has trees,” the girl replied, scrambling up another set of stairs.

Peggy sighed and continued to follow. Finally, they were in the narrow corridor of a tenement. The girl knocked three times on the door at the end of the hallway. She looked back at Peggy appraisingly. “You have money?”

Peggy nodded, “I have.”

“Good.”

The door swung open to reveal a thin older man in shirtsleeves. The little girl chattered up at him in Chinese, and Peggy only caught the word for “lady” and “sell”. Clearly she’d need to spend more time with her Mandarin lessons in the new year. The man Peggy could only assume was Mr. Li peered out into the dark hallway at her. Peggy smiled, “Hello. Your little friend told me you might have a Christmas tree for sale.”

Mr. Li grunted, but gestured for both of them to come in. The little girl went first, continuing her stream of commentary. Li led them through his kitchen and into another room, where six or seven trees, each about six feet tall and wrapped in burlap, stood against a wall. 

“You can pick one, for five dollars,” the girl translated as Mr. Li spoke in a gravely voice and lit a cigarette. 

“May I see one unwrapped first, please?” The scent of pine and smoke was thick in her nose, and for a moment Peggy was back on the op, in the middle of a forest with Steve and Bucky. It might have been easier to have cut themselves down a tree out there and bring it home to Brooklyn than it would be to carry one of these back out to Steve by herself. 

Li took the burlap off the nearest tree, revealing lush branches. Peggy nodded, “Yes, that will do nicely.” She dug into her handbag. “Five dollars, did you say?” The little girl nodded. “That’s quite a steep price. They’re charging two out on the street.”

“No trees on the street,” the girl said placidly as she held out her hand. 

“Well, you’ve got me there,” Peggy handed over the cash. “If you can find me some help getting this back out to my husband, there’s another dollar in it just for you.” The girl looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded and ran back out of the apartment. 

A wave of exhaustion hit as she watched the little ragamuffin scarper out the door. Li must have noticed, for he gestured her back towards the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table.

“Thank you,” Peggy sank onto the chair and passed a hand over her eyes. She was back in the pine forest, running hard after Steve as they dodged shots from the rogue Hydra team they’d been dispatched to bring in. Only, the three men their intel had them expecting turned out to be ten, with a full arsenal of high-powered weaponry from one of Schmidt’s factories. The mission had taken a full ten days more than they’d planned for, and they’d ranged far beyond the territory they’d parachuted into, chasing and then being chased by their quarry. It had turned out all right, in the end, but the work had been so much more than any of them had bargained for. There was one moment, when she was pinned down alone, out of ammo, waiting on Steve and Bucky to complete their part of the plan, when she was quite certain she wouldn’t be coming home to her son. 

Li set a cup of hot, fragrant tea in front of her, and it shook Peggy out of the memory. She had come home, she was home. She smiled gratefully up at her host and took the cup between her hands, feeling the warmth seep into her bones. 

While Peggy sipped her tea, the girl returned and spoke to Mr. Li. This time, Peggy caught that she called him grandfather, and he called her Meilin in return. Little Meilin turned back to Peggy. “My father will help you carry the tree back down.” At a sharp word from Mr. Lin, she sheepishly added, “He will take the shortcut.”

Another man stuck his head in the door, a younger version of Mr. Li, nodded at all of them and went into the adjoining room to pick up the tree. 

“Thank you for the tea,” Peggy said to Mr. Li in her halting Chinese. 

Mr. Li looked surprised, but he laughed, the smile lighting up his whole face. “Merry Christmas,” he told her in heavily accented English. She reached out her hand, and he took it, still laughing.

Peggy followed Meilin and the younger Mr. Li out the door and down several flights of stairs. As they exited the building’s front door, Peggy laughed ruefully as she realized she was on the street she’d started at, just a block down from the tree stand where Steve was now pacing, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Steve!” He looked up, an unreadable look on his face, and started towards her. 

“I found us a tree,” she said. Whatever he’d been about to say, he stopped, looking between her and the Lis. 

“You,” he paused and took a long breath. “You found us a tree.” 

“I’m sorry I ran off, darling.”

“You found us a tree,” he repeated, dazed. 

“Well, it was a bit more like the tree found me.” Peggy smiled tentatively, crossing over to him, “Or rather, Meilin found me looking for a tree.”

Suddenly Steve scooped her into his arms and planted a firm kiss on her lips. “Steve! We’re in the middle of the street.” Behind them, Meilin giggled. 

“I can’t believe you found us a tree.”

“Yes, yes, well done me. Now let me go so we can hail a cab and finally go home.” She grinned against his chest.

 

***

It took some finagling and a bit of rope, but eventually they were in a cab, the tree dripping sap on the roof, headed over the bridge back to Brooklyn Heights. Steve fell asleep almost as soon as they’d started moving, his head heavy on Peggy’s shoulder. 

She let him sleep in the cab while she and the driver wrestled the tree into the Rogers home. Bucky was nowhere to be seen, but he’d clearly been around to let in the delivery men, judging by the packages stacked beside their couch. 

“Come on you great lump, you can sleep inside,” back out at the cab, she apologetically tipped the driver again after it took nearly five minutes to rouse Steve out of the back seat. 

“Jus’ five more minutes,” Steve, still mostly asleep, leaned on her as they slowly ascended the stairs of the stoop. 

“Steve, damnit, you’re too heavy! Wake up.” Peggy shoved at him, growing impatient. “If you’re going to sleep away the next two hours and leave me get everything ready before Michael comes home, the least you can do is get into the house under your own power.” She ground the last part out from between gritted teeth, and something about her tone must have broken through the fog in Steve’s brain. He yawned and stretched away from her.

“Sorry, Peggy, I’m awake. I can help.” He rubbed his face briskly and shook himself a little. “What are my orders, ma’am?”

Peggy snorted. “I thought you were in charge of this mission, soldier,” she threw over her shoulder as she bustled into the living room, which was now decidedly more crowded with the addition of the tree and packaging. 

“Turns out you’re much better at this whole thing. I couldn’t even find us a tree.” Steve came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Have I said thank you? I haven’t even said thank you.”

She turned in his embrace. “You’ll have to thank me properly later,” she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “but for now you can set up said tree. There should be a stand somewhere in those boxes. Once it’s up, put the garland on first, then the string lights.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Steve said with a wry smile.

She swatted at his backside, “Just get to work. I’ve got to get dinner started.”

He caught her hand as she walked by and reeled her in for another kiss. “Thank you, Peggy,” he murmured against her lips.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

 

***

Peggy was willing to go to rather great lengths to make Steve happy, but as it turned out, she drew the line at whipping up a Christmas feast on short notice, fresh out of the field and with only a few hours sleep. She was grateful to open their refrigerator to see a pot roast seasoned and ready to go into the oven. Truly, Ana Jarvis was a godsend. Peggy lit the oven and started a pot of coffee while she waited for it to heat up. Behind the roast was a dish of potatoes and another of green beans. The helpful note taped to the lid instructed Peggy to put both into the oven with the roast for the last thirty minutes of cooking. Peggy checked her watch. Jarvis had promised to have Michael home by seven, so she had just over an hour to bathe and, most likely, tidy after Steve made a festive mess in the living room. 

On cue, Peggy heard a crash from the other room and Steve swore a blue streak. “Everything all right?” she called.

“Oh, fine, everything’s fine.”

She put the roast in the oven and set the timer. “I’m going to wash up, dear, unless you need my help.”

Steve grunted and the tree rustled. Another curse and then Steve called back, “All set! You take a nice long bath.”

Peggy planned to do just that. But first, while Steve was distracted and the running water provided cover, she needed to make a phone call. 

 

***

“Happy Christmas!” Jarvis was pink-cheeked and jolly when Steve opened the door. Little Michael was in his arms, babbling at Ana, who reached up to fix the wooly cap that had slipped down over one eye. 

“Dada!” Michael shrieked when he caught sight of Steve. He windmilled his arms excitedly when Steve reached out to take the wriggling bundle of ten-month old from Jarvis, catching Steve squarely under his chin. 

“Oh!” he played it up, snapping his head back while his son laughed, “Right in the kisser!” Steve leaned back in to buss him on the cheek. “That’s a hell of a cross you’ve got, Mikey.”

“Hell!” Michael parroted back at him.

“Oh, um, we shouldn’t say that,” Steve admonished, turning quite pink himself. 

“He might have actually learned that one from Mr. Stark, I’m afraid,” Jarvis admitted.

“Well, as long as I’m off the hook,” Steve shrugged, “Come in, come in. Peggy’s almost ready to take Ana’s roast out of the oven. It smells wonderful.” He led them into the kitchen. “Thank you so much for sending it over.”

“It was my pleasure, Steve,” Ana pinched Michael’s round cheek as she passed by. “You know we’re very happy to help out. Michael had three long naps today. You might have some trouble putting him down at the usual time, I’m afraid.”

Peggy gave Ana a quick kiss on both cheeks before she turned back to the oven. “Well, we’re grateful all the same. And it’s a special night, Michael can stay up with us if he’s not fussy.” She took out the roast and the sides while Ana reached into a cupboard for a bottle of wine. Jarvis took down plates from the sideboard.

“What’s Howard up to tonight?” Steve asked, distracted by playing peek-a-boo with Michael. 

“Sir has a date,” Jarvis replied. 

“He has a fourth date!” Ana piped up. At Jarvis’s quelling look, she laughed, “Oh Edwin, my dear, it’s not like they won’t hear it from him soon enough.” She looked over at Peggy, “He’s quite gone on this one. Maria.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows, “You don’t say?”

Ana hummed in the affirmative, sticking her finger into the potatoes. “She hasn’t spent the night once, so that may be part of it.”

“Ana!” A scandalized Jarvis sputtered behind her, clutching the plates to his chest. His wife was unfazed.

“But I think it’s something more. This one might just stick.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Steve said drily, settling Mikey into his highchair. Ana laughed again while Peggy ducked out to the dining room table.

“All set?” she asked Jarvis.

“Oh yes, your wedding china looks lovely out here,” he replied, a little too loudly. At Peggy’s look, he scooted closer and lowered his voice dramatically, “Yes, I put a call in to Colonel Phillips for you. You may expect a package tomorrow, as discussed. And may I be the very first to offer you my most heartfelt congratulations.”

“Lovely, thanks.” Peggy pressed a kiss to Jarvis’s cheek and dashed back out into the kitchen. No time at the present to think about the implications of that statement.

As they were settling in at the table, Bucky came up the back steps. “Ho ho ho,” he tickled Mikey under his chin, “hey there kiddo.” 

Mikey giggled and reached out for the man he knew as his uncle. “Uh-Buh!”

Bucky laughed and scooped him up, “Close enough, kid.” He settled him on his lap and accepted a glass of wine from Peggy.

“Thank you for taking care of those errands for me,” she said, eyebrows raised.

Bucky shrugged, “Happy to help, Peg. It’s good to be busy right now.” He was supposed to visit the extended Barnes family in New Jersey, but he’d had to postpone the trip when their mission had run long. 

“When do you head out to Rebecca’s?”

“Tomorrow evening.” Bucky took a sip and licked his lips, “It’s hard, uh, missing the first Christmas after Pa…” he trailed off and took another sip, squeezing Mikey tighter.

Steve set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “I know, Buck. I wish my Ma were here this time every year, too. But you’re not missing the whole holiday, you’ll still be there on Christmas day.” Bucky blinked and nodded, swallowing hard. 

“We’re so very glad to have you with us tonight, though.” Peggy said. Everyone around the table murmured their agreement. Michael took a look around at their somber faces and shrieked in indignation, breaking the moment. Bucky chuckled and ruffled the baby’s hair. 

Steve cleared his throat and lifted his glass, “I don’t think we could do this half as well if it were just me and Peggy. What you do for us goes beyond friendship, and we are so grateful. So, thank you. To family.”

“To family,” they all chorused.

“Now, Peggy’s done a great job heating up Ana’s delicious food, so let’s tuck in.” A crooked smile played over his handsome features as he looked across the table at Peggy. She rolled her eyes at him, but the smile she gave in return was fond and warm. 

 

***

After the dishes had been cleared away, the five adults and Michael retired to the living room to ooh and ahh over Steve’s artfully decorated tree. 

“Well done, darling,” Peggy said as she tucked herself against his side. On the other side of the room, the Jarvises exclaimed over Michael as he tentatively took a few steps with Bucky holding him up.

“Thanks,” he smiled down at her, “it was almost a bunch of branches draped with string lights and tinsel over the mantel, but my brilliant wife saved the day again.” He set his chin against the top of her head.

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Peggy replied airily, squeezing her arm around him.

Steve kissed the crown of her head and breathed in the smell of her (thankfully freshly washed) hair. “You have no idea,” he said in a tone only she could hear. Despite the company and their combined exhaustion, it set her thoughts racing down a few rather titillating avenues.

She tipped her face up for a quick kiss. “Perhaps you’ll have a chance to show her tonight?”

Steve’s eyes darkened and she felt him pull her just a bit closer. His reply, however, was cut short by their doorbell. He looked at her, puzzled, “Who the hell is calling at nine o’clock on Christmas eve?”

Peggy played dumb. “Perhaps it’s carolers?”

“This late?” Steve huffed an aggrieved sigh as the doorbell rang again. 

“Better answer it.”

Steve headed to the foyer, grumbling under his breath. Bucky was quickly at Peggy’s side, Michael in his arms. “That’s Dum Dum,” he told her, sotto voce. 

“And you gave him the package?” Bucky nodded. “Thank you.”

“You pulled it all together, Peg.”

She squeezed his hand, “Wouldn’t have happened without you, James.”

He blushed and she could see he was pleased, “Ah, well, you know there’s nothing none of us wouldn’t do for Stevie.” He grinned back at her and then followed Steve to the front door.

“Ho ho ho!” A familiar voice bellowed from behind a flowing white beard when Steve opened the door.

“Wha…?”

“Merry Christmas, ho ho ho,” the man in the red suit continued, “I’ve heard you’ve got a little fella celebrating his first Christmas with us, is that true?”

“Dugan?” Steve sounded like he might be choking back laughter.

“Ho ho ho, it’s Kris Kringle! I’ve just finished my trial and I’ve come all this way to Brooklyn to see someone special.” Dum Dum winked over the fake beard. His own moustache wasn’t quite covered by the dime-store getup, and poked out from underneath it in strange ginger tufts. “Oh, there’s the boy now, ho ho ho!” He waved over Steve’s shoulder at Michael, who stared wide-eyed out at this strange person.

“Er, come in, Santa.” Steve was still shaking with repressed laughter as Dum Dum shouldered past to greet Michael.

“Hello there, Michael!” Dum Dum bellowed in a terrifically jolly manner.

“Oh Timothy, what a lovely Santa voice. You should do this every year!” Ana called from the living room.

“Quiet back there, Santa’s got some gifts to pass out. Don’t go spoiling it for big pitchers with little ears, now, Mrs. Jarvis.” Dum Dum looked back down at Michael, “Ho ho ho,” he shook his padded belly for effect. “Well now Michael, what do you say?” 

Michael, still wide-eyed, took a deep breath, turned bright red and screamed bloody murder.

 

***

Some time later, the gifts ‘Santa’ had brought Michael sat untouched on the coffee table, while Michael drowsed in his mother’s arms and Dum Dum, now sans hat and beard, sat with a large glass of wine. 

Steve and Bucky cracked themselves up all over again. “Ah ha ha,” Steve slapped Dugan on the back, “the look on your face!”

“And that ridiculous beard,” Bucky sniggered, “You couldn’t have trimmed your moustache at all?”

“Yuk it up you two,” Dugan took another slug of wine, “but I don’t see either of you strapping a pillow under your coat for the enjoyment of good girls and boys.”

Steve wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, “I’m sorry, Dum Dum. It was so nice of you to come over dressed like that.” He chuckled again, “Maybe when Mikey’s older…”

“Nope,” Dum Dum grimaced, “I’m done. Peggy, usually I’m game to do whatever you say, but you can find another stooge for next year.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Dum Dum, you’re perfect for the role! We just gotta get Ana to fatten you up a bit. Get that gut resembling a bowl full of jelly.” 

Dum Dum huffed at Bucky’s joke, but his look was thoughtful, “I mean, if it gets me more of Ana’s cooking…”

“You’re welcome at our table any time, Timothy,” Ana offered graciously. 

“Except on Sundays,” Jarvis cut in, shooting his wife a peculiar look.

“Oh, yes, except Sundays.” Ana winked obviously at Edwin, who flushed beet red but looked pleased despite himself.

“On that note, friends, I better head back home,” Bucky yawned and stretched. “I only had time for a little nap earlier, and I am bushed.”

“Yes, yes, you three must be so tired,” Ana gathered wine glasses from the other guests, “We’ll leave the Rogerses to put little Michael to bed.”

Everyone wished each other Happy and Merry Christmases as coats and boots were donned. On his way out the door, Dugan turned back. “I almost forgot,” he rummaged in the sack he’d brought. “Special delivery!” He handed a package to Steve, “Merry Christmas, Rogers family.” He gave Peggy a big smacking kiss on the cheek and left.

“Thank you!” Steve called to Dum Dum’s back, looking a bit askance at the gift in his hands. “What do you reckon he might have gotten me?” he mused as they headed back into the living room. 

Peggy shifted the heavily-sleeping Michael in her arms. “I couldn’t say, darling. Why don’t you put your son to bed and then you can open it and see.”

“Good idea, hand over the little stinker.” He brushed a kiss against her forehead and made for the stairs while Peggy returned to the kitchen to wash up the last of the dishes.

When Steve came back, they settled on the couch under the glow of the lights from the tree. “What do you think it is?” he asked, his hands running over the package.

“Enough with the suspense,”—Peggy knew quite well what it was—“just open it.”

He shrugged and stuck a finger under the tape. “Do you want to save the wrapping?”

Peggy groaned and flopped back against the couch.

“Guess not.” He ripped into the paper, uncovering the backing of a frame. Peggy sat back up, watching him closely. He turned it over, revealing a hand-tinted photo. “Oh,” Steve sagged forward next to her. “It’s Ma.” He looked at Peggy, tears in his eyes. “This is my photo, but…” His eyes lit upon the small black and white portrait of his mother hung over the mantel, then he looked back at Peggy.

She smiled nervously at her husband. “One of the people at Stark’s lab is doing some interesting work in photo reproduction and enhancement, so I brought that to her a few months ago. I have a version that’s not tinted, if you prefer that. I just thought it might be nice to have a larger version. I know it’s your only photograph of her. The original is untouched, as you can see.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “And now we have more than one copy. We could put one in Michael’s room, so he learns her face. I know how much you wish he could know her.”

Steve set the photo down gently and pulled her into a crushing hug. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding tight. “Thank you, Peg,” he whispered, “it’s a wonderful gift.” He pulled back enough to kiss her, deep and true. One of his hands wound into her hair, and Peggy felt that familiar surge of desire heat her belly. He pulled her into his lap and kissed his way down her throat while she clutched at his shoulders rather deliriously. Peggy tried to catch her breath, but just as she did, he returned to her mouth, holding her still and kissing her. 

“Darling,” she managed to pant between his reckless, consuming kisses, “wouldn’t you rather continue this upstairs?”   
He nodded, still kissing her, and lifted her up, taking the stairs two at a time but barely jostling Peggy as he did. There were a great many advantages to having Captain America as a husband, Peggy had learned over the last few years; his ability to lift her as though she was light as a feather was chief among them at moments like this. His hands were firm against her bottom and Peggy couldn’t help but giggle as she squirmed against him, trying to find a bit of friction. 

He nipped at her lip, “Shhhhhh. You don’t want to wake Mikey.” He turned the corner into their bedroom and set her down, stretching out over her on the bed. She gasped as he ran his hand down her side and grasped her thigh, pulling her leg up and over his hip and grinding into her in the same motion, all while he scraped his stubble and just a hint of teeth against the hinge of her jaw, his breath hot in her ear. Steve generally liked to linger, but he was clearly wasting no time tonight.

“Steve,” she breathed, raking her nails lightly up his back and delighting in the full body shiver it triggered for him, “let me up.” He shook his head and kissed her again, hiking her leg up higher. She felt him hard against her center and she wanted him as much as she ever had. Now she nipped at his lip and let out something between a groan and a growl as he rewarded her with another rolling thrust of his hips. “Let me up so I can put my cap in, you bastard.” 

“Aw, Peggy,” he moved on from her lips and throat, skimming her blouse up over her front so he could mouth at the peak of her breast through her brassiere. He grinned up at her wickedly, “Don’t you think starting on a little sister or brother for Mikey is a great present?”

She bucked her hips and unseated him, “For whom?” Peggy retorted on her way to the bathroom. Behind her, Steve just laughed.

She took her time, changing into her robe and removing her makeup, taking her still-damp hair out of its simple updo and applying the night cream Angie had gifted her. When she returned, Steve had burrowed under the covers. He’d also taken off his clothes, judging by the pile by his side of the bed.

“Your trousers will wrinkle if you leave them there all night,” she said icily as she crossed the room.

He shook his head, “Peggy, I was kidding. You know I’m not eager to have another just yet.” He leaned over and picked up his pants, swinging his legs out from under the covers. He was, it turned out, fully nude. Aside from an ugly yellowing bruise that ran the length of his left side—another reminder of the mission they’d just narrowly returned from—he was utterly perfect. Sculpted from marble. Peggy climbed into bed, still admiring his considerable assets while he shook out his pants and draped them over a hanger. When he turned around, he caught the look of open hunger on her face. “Oh.”

She raised an eyebrow while he crossed back, “Indeed.” She grinned wolfishly at him, and he dove onto the bed rather than walk the last few feet. After that, there were no more cross or even teasing words between them. There were hardly any words at all.

 

***

Christmas morning dawned bright and crisp, the cold etching a delicate lattice of frost across their windows. Steve was up early, never requiring more than one decent night’s sleep to recover from weeks of deprivation and discomfort. While Peggy slept in, he brewed a fresh pot of coffee and fed Michael his breakfast and changed him into a fresh set of pajamas. Finally, Steve brought Peggy first her coffee, which she accepted with grateful hands, and then their son, who immediately starfished on the bed and began tracing the colorful pattern of the quilt, chattering contentedly to himself. Husband and wife smiled at each other over the rims of their mugs. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Rogers,” Peggy said while she carded a hand through Michael’s downy fine hair. 

Steve set down his mug and stretched out along the side of the bed, curling his body around Mikey’s like a parenthesis. He gazed up at her, his heart brimming in his clear blue eyes. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Rogers.”

She let out a light, surprised laugh, “Oh, do we all say ‘Happy Christmas’ now?” His eyes sparkled while she teased him, and he leaned up for a soft kiss. 

“I guess we do. Make sure that’s on next year’s cards: ‘Happy Christmas, love the Rogerses’.”

She laughed again and reached to pet her hand through his hair now, “I’ll make a note of that.”

He hummed contentedly. Then Michael levered himself up onto hands and knees and clambered up onto Steve’s stomach, and he made quite a different sound altogether, much to Mikey and Peggy’s delight.

 

***

Late that afternoon, after they’d coaxed Michael into opening all his presents, and not just playing with the wrapping on the first one, Chet Phillips stopped in. He exchanged a thick envelope for the baby, and sat down at the kitchen table with Michael on his knee. Peggy unwound the string from the envelope closure and slid a document out, checking over the first few pages quickly. “This is all as we’ve discussed?” she asked Phillips.

“Everything like we said. I made a few adjustments to the benefits package,” he admitted. At her sharp look, he pointed his finger at her, “It’s my call to extend more vacation than the stingy regulations call for. It’s not like you’re coming on board at the ground level, Carter.”

“Carter-Rogers,” Peggy corrected him absentmindedly, her attention back on the contract as she skimmed over the final few pages.

“Peggy?” Steve had said little since Phillips showed up, but now he was too curious to stay quiet, “What’s all this?”

Peggy looked at Phillips, who gracefully took his cue to examine Michael’s new toys with the child in the next room. 

Steve stood over her, his arms crossed and brows drawn together. “Are you working with Phillips on something new? Because I thought we’d planned to stick with how things are for now, while Michael’s still young. You can’t start one of his long-term projects right now, not with the way it’d take you to all corners, and on a different schedule from my ops.” His color rose and he wiped a hand over his face, “Are you not happy on our team? Would you rather be running something more like we did back in the war? Because you can do that at the SSR, we have them can make room for you on—”

“Steve, Steve, no,” Peggy reached out for his hand and he grabbed for her, “You’re so far off base, my darling.” She reeled him in and took both his hands in hers. “I told you, before we got pregnant with Michael, that Phillips had approached me about an entirely new agency?” Steve nodded. “Well, the funding came through in the last few months, and he’s been hectoring me to come on board. Not as an intelligence agent. As his second in command.” 

Steve shook his head, an awed smile dawning on his face, “Peggy, that’s amazing.”

“I kept putting him off because I liked being out in the field with you too much. I didn’t tell you for the same reason. I love being in the thick of it, and I love working as a team with you and Barnes.” She drew in a shaky breath and looked down at the floor.

“But?” Steve squatted down and gently lifted her chin to make eye contact. “Peggy, I love our life, too. You don’t have to change anything.”

Suddenly, a hot rush of tears welled up, constricting her throat. “I’m not sure I want to,” she sniffed and pressed her fingers to her cheeks, willing herself not to cry. “But, oh, Steve, if we hadn’t made it out of that last mission…” Peggy felt overcome, and she fell silent. 

Steve cupped her face between his hands, “We did, though. We made it out, Pegs. That’s why we make a great team,” he tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She shook her head, “We are a great team, and that’s enough right up until it isn’t. I can’t be in the field any more, Steve, I’ve decided. I can’t let him lose us both.” She sniffed again as he took in her words and the resolve behind them.

“Okay then. We’re splitting up the team.” He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, still crouched in front of her. 

“Thank you,” Peggy murmured, leaning in to give him a quick, grateful kiss.

“Well,” Steve said as he levered himself up to standing, “I guess I get the better end of the deal, really. You’re stuck with Phillips again.”

They could both hear Phillips’s muffled guffaw as Peggy nodded and replied, “Yes dear, but I’ve gotten a near fifty-percent raise.” She smiled up into his face, “Happy Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Yes, Peggy paid the 1947 equivalent of $66 for that tree. We all make silly purchases when we’re tired and just want to go home. Fandom seems to be in agreement that Steve is the real penny-pincher between the two of them anyhow.  
> *One of my advance readers pointed out that the timing’s a little funny here for Howard to be meeting Maria if we’re basically following the MCU timeline that has Tony born in the 1960s. It kinda only works if Maria is young, around 22 or 23, and Tony is a rather late addition to the Stark family. So...let’s go with that!   
> *Miracle on 34th Street came out in 1947, so that’s what Dum Dum’s referring to when he mentions Kris Kringle’s trial. Yes, I rewatched the original as research for this fic. No, was not available to stream for free on any of the US video platforms I use. Thus, this fic cost me $4.99 to write. (I thought there’d be more action at Macy’s in this story, tbqh. Still: worth it.)   
> *I know nothing about photo reproduction in the late 1940s except tinted photos were definitely a thing! Not sure that copies of photos were, so ~hand-wavium~ SCIENCE at Stark Enterprises made Peggy’s gift to Steve possible.  
> *But but but what did Steve give Peggy for Christmas? Well, my giftee said they were comfortable with up to an NC-17 rating, but we faded to black on that part anyways, wink-wink, nudge-nudge. (Also probably a beautiful locket. That sounds appropriate. But you’re right, Peggy crushed it this holiday season.)  
> *Shameless self-promotion time: yes I did steal little Michael Rogers from a different fic I wrote. Check out my story Breakfast Special if you’re in the mood for something so sweet, it’s cavity-inducing. (He’s like, seven in that one and the POV character, so it’s markedly different from the fic you just read.)
> 
> *So, what was meant to be around 2500 words of fluff about Steve and Peggy’s race to find the last Christmas tree in Manhattan turned into something more about Peggy realizing it’s time to step back from fieldwork. Uh, Merry Christmas, here’s a whole mess of feelings? I hope it was still an enjoyable read, thank you so much for taking the time!


End file.
